


everyone just wants to be in love

by galaxygal



Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Adult Language, Alternate Universe - Modern, Angst with a Happy Ending, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Grinding, Humor, M/M, Mutual Pining, and they were ROOMMATES, oh my god they were roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-20 04:46:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16549175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galaxygal/pseuds/galaxygal
Summary: Racetrack had gotten really good at finding and bedding snarky redheads that remind him vaguely of his best friend.Albert had gotten really good at pretending he doesn’t care about his best friend getting it on with other guys.





	everyone just wants to be in love

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I’ve ever written (a) for Newsies or (b) smut. Fingers crossed.  
> (Title from “Love & War in Your Twenties” by Jordy Searcy)

Race had gotten really good at spotting snarky redheads from across crowded rooms.

He’d also gotten good at getting them in his bed. Spot said it’s because Race was so twinky, but Race preferred to believe it was his charm and wit that managed to sweep people off their feet. It really didn’t matter either way. The one person Race really wanted— the only one he’d ever felt anything real for, whether it was love or just a strong, insufferable crush— didn’t care how twinky or charming or witty Race was. As far as Albert was concerned, him and Race were strictly platonic-bro-dudes.

So yeah, Race was really good at finding and bedding snarky redheads that reminded him vaguely of Albert. It’s not so much a gift as a really fucked up coping mechanism.

  
Albert had gotten really good at pretending he didn’t care about whatever Race got up to with his latest bedmate. It was a talent Albert simultaneously loathed and was grateful for.

It took a combination of some kind of background noise to combat the sounds from Race’s room alongside lots of therapy in the form of friends who are decidedly not therapists.

The first part was usually met through Netflix or Spotify, whichever Albert was feeling like. The second bit came from Elmer, who had had a front row seat to the Albert-Pines-and-Whines show for the seven years Albert had been love in with Race-fucking-track.

When Albert first felt himself falling for Race back in junior year of high school, he blamed it on his recent discovery of his sexuality. After all, Race was beyond gorgeous and an ideal boyfriend by many standards. Even as his best friend, Albert would’ve been blind not to see it.

When he was still falling junior year of college, Albert finally had to face the music and admit there was no getting over his more-than-crush the easy way.

Basically, that meant he’d angrily text Elmer everything dumb about Race’s newest bedmate while trying to convince himself he wasn’t getting hot and bothered by the sounds of Race getting pounded into his bed frame, and then he’d make breakfast in the morning and talk about literally anything but Race’s choice in recreation. It sucked, but the one thing Albert wouldn’t do is abandon his best friend of fifteen years all because he couldn’t keep a rein on his emotions.

Fuck Race and his twinky ass.

  
“Shit, yes, do that again.” Race threw his head back, fingers curled into strawberry blonde— not red, but a mediocre substitute— and moaned. “ _Albert_.”

The strawberry blond— Kyle? Kevin? Decidedly not Albert— froze, and pulled away, looking at Race, who wished to shrivel up from mortification.

“Who the fuck is Albert?”

Race desperately tried to come up with some kind of explanation, a passable excuse, but nothing came.

The guy— Keith! That’s it— scoffed, and grabbed his shirt from where it’d been tossed, before leaving the room angrily, slamming the door behind him without another word. Race flinched as it rattled the doorframe, and squeezed his eyes tight, trying to convince himself that he was okay, that it was just a fluke, naked on his bed and shivering.

Except it was nowhere near the first time that had happened. Race probably held the world record for “Most Times Saying the Same Wrong Name in Bed”, right alongside his other award for “Stupidest Crush on Stupidest Boy”.  
Race sighed, pulled on his own clothes, and shuffled out of his room, sniffling gently as he crashed emotionally. He never really felt super great for long after these things, even if they did go well, but he didn’t know how else to handle being in love with Albert.

The fear of losing him altogether held Race back from even attempting to confess.  
So, temporary highs would have to do for now. As long as Race could remember to say the right name, he’d have those temporary highs that didn’t even hold a candle to how Albert made him feel.

It was okay though, really. Race was okay.  
He’d be okay.  
  
  
“You had to have noticed the slew of you-look-alikes he’s bringing home. You’re not that dumb.” Elmer paused, and adjusted his statement. “You had to have noticed the slew of you-look-alikes he’s bringing home.”

Albert shoved Elmer, rolling his eyes. “I’ve noticed he’s bringing home tons of guys. I don’t exactly stick around to notice whether or not they have freckles.”

“You’re so fucking dense. Red hair, dipshit. They’re literally all gingers from what I’ve seen.”

Albert paused, wracking his brain to think what Race’s bedmates looked like. They had kind of blurred together, and Albert wasn’t lying when he said he tended to duck out ASAP, but now that he considered it, reddish hair did seem to be a common thread.

“Huh.” He chewed on his lower lip, face growing a tad warm.

Elmer stared at him with a soft look, sighing gently. “You know, you could just talk to him. He wouldn’t hate you.” He paused, smirking slightly. “Besides, he’s totally hopelessly in love with you, so...”

“Shut up Elmer.” Albert pushed him again, but he couldn’t deny the way his heart jumped at the thought.

Sighing again, Elmer stood up, sliding his jacket on as he moved to walk out the coffee shop he and Albert had met in. “I am serious though. You need to talk to him, even if it’s just so you can try and clear out some of this emotional constipation. I’m worried for you, man.”

Albert just nodded mutely, staring down at his hands. He cleared his throat, looking up. “Text me once you get back to your place. Can’t have you getting kidnapped.”

Elmer laughed, already halfway out the door. “They could try!” He shouted over his shoulder, and Albert smiled fondly, shaking his head before turning to pay his bill.

  
Race messed with the hem of his sweatshirt, laying upside down on the couch in Jack and David’s apartment. He stared up at the ceiling, distracting himself with wondering how on earth Jack had managed to get paint up there, and how David hadn’t killed him for it.

“I’m officially dubbing that couch the ‘Anthony Higgins Sofa of Sexually Repressed Emotions’,” Jack announced, plopping onto the armchair opposite.

“You’re the worst, and I hate you. I hope you understand that.”

“I don’t understand that in the least actually.”

Race simply groaned in response and blindly tossed a pillow his way, missing dramatically and not feeling any the better for it.

“What do you want me to tell you? That you should get your head out of your ass and just tell Albert already? Because I have told you that. Many times.” Jack tossed the pillow back, and Race clutched it to his chest, wondering how long it would take to pass out from blood flow to the head.

“I’m not telling him. He’d hate me.”

It was Jack’s turn to groan. “You’re so fucking dense. He’d never hate you. And we’ve long established that he likes you back.”

“You’ve established that. I’ve established shit.”

Pinning him with a long-withstanding look, Jack shook his head. “That’s what I said too. And look what happened! I’m m—“

“Married to David and getting nailed every single night, believe me, I know. You never stop talking about it. Speaking, of, where is David?” A thinly veiled attempt to change the subject, but it worked, so who was the real idiot here?

“Off schmoozing some big wigs up at the Washington Post. They’re all obsessed with his freelance work, especially since he co authored that one piece on the effects of publicly available birth control in high schools with Katherine.” Jack grinned, a love struck look in his eyes that always appeared when we talked about David. “He’s hoping to become a correspondent, and I told him he’s a shoo-in, but he ke-“

Race began to tune him out, knowing Jack could go on for hours, unhindered, when it came to David. A tiny, dark piece of him wished to resent Jack and David for their happiness, but Race knew the only person to blame for his own unhappiness in love was himself.

The Chronicles of Javid did get him thinking, though. Jack and David had been best friends since middle school before they finally got together senior year of high school when Jack pulled his head out of his ass and kissed David on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial during their annual road trip to some random city.  
If it worked out for them, maybe it could work out for Race and Albert as well.

A little flicker of hope stirred in Race’s chest. He exhaled shakily, still staring at the paint-flecked ceiling, and smiled.

  
Light blue periwinkles from the nice elderly couple down the hall who always smelled like cigarette smoke and snickerdoodle cookies.

Mint sprigs from their own windowsill garden, a remnant of the Environmental course Race took sophomore year of college. He had insisted on a garden after feeling the environmental guilt his teacher had pushed on all his students.

A silver ribbon Albert had found in the shoebox he kept under his bed, full of old pictures and odd knick-knacks he’d collected over the years.

Tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth, Albert rearranged the flowers once again, fidgeting over the DIY arrangement. Race liked flowers, right?

Albert shook his head. Race definitely liked flowers. He’d known that since senior prom when he bought Race a corsage as a joke, and Race had worn it all night and then gotten it preserved. It was still somewhere in his room.

He glanced out the window, taking a deep breath.

Today would be the day. No more putting it off.

Albert was in love with Race, and he was going to tell him.

  
Race fully meant to try and confess to Albert once he returned from the house of Javid, but the hour and a half it took on the subway ride back had firmly dampened his courage and heightened his nerves.

So when he ran into one of his old classmates while changing trains, Race couldn’t help but flirt back with the attractive blonde— closer to blonde than strawberry, but still fairly fluffy— because flirting was second-nature.

And when said attractive blonde not-so-discreetly offered to go down on Race— well, who could blame him?

(Race. Race blamed him.)

 

Albert jumped as the front door swung open, heart pounding, only for it to sink as he was faced with Race and some blonde hunk shoving his tongue down Race’s throat. 

Anger burned, hot and angry in his chest. Irrational anger, he would realize only immediately afterwards, because Race was in fact single, but in the moment all Albert saw was red.

“What the fuck Higgins,” Albert growled, and Race jumped away from whoever-the-other-guy-was, eyes wide and hair mussed.

“I, I thought you were still working, I-“ Race stammered, before trailing off altogether, suddenly choked up.

“Yeah, well evidently not. Some warning next time, please.” Albert glared at the dude hovering awkwardly behind Race. He seemed to get a hint, and turned to leave.

“I’m gonna go. Text me later ‘Track, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Race mumbled, suddenly finding the scratch on the floor next to his shoe very interesting.

“‘Track? Really?” Albert was still angry, but he started to feel it give way to heartbreak— no, still anger, but at himself, for getting his hopes up.

“We were in-“

“Uh huh. I’m heading out.”

Race felt something shrivel up inside of him and die. “Okay,” he whispered, barely holding back tears. Albert stepped towards the door, and Race simply took a step away, still looking at his shoes.

Suddenly overcome with the urge to tuck the blonde into his chest and kiss that kicked-puppy look off his face, Albert instead left the apartment and Race behind.

  
“I f-fucked up,” Race whimpered into his pillow, alone in his room save for the teddy bear on his desk.

Race didn’t think he’d ever forget the look on Albert’s face. The anger and disgust above all, but the hurt too.

Why was he hurt?

Race shook his head. It didn’t matter now. Forget hating Race for loving him, Albert hated Race for being such a slut.

It isn’t like Race hadn’t already known it. While there’s nothing wrong with taking as many lovers as you wished, so long as it was safe and consensual, no one could deny the way rumors of his escapades followed Race like a shadow. It had never bugged him as much as it did now.

After all, it’s one thing for complete strangers to call you a slut or a fuckboy. It’s another thing for your best friend and the guy you’re in love with to think that.

The longer he sat on that thought though, the angrier Race felt himself becoming.

What right did Albert have to judge him on how Race occupied himself?

  
“You’re a fucking idiot. I understand why you did what you did, but you’re an idiot.”

Albert glared at Elmer, but he didn’t even glance up from his pasta.

“I’m not going to blame you for getting angry. I don’t think it’s right, especially considering Race is still single regardless of your emotional leanings towards each other, but it is at least understandable. You shouldn’t have given Race the cold shoulder though. He doesn’t deserve that crap.”

Albert grumbled, knowing that Elmer was right but too ashamed to fully admit it.

“So, what are you gonna do?” A pause, as Elmer stared at Albert’s wide eyes, before rolling his own. “You can’t honestly expect this to blow over.”

“I mean...” Albert trailer off, and Elmer groaned, smacking the back of Albert’s head.

“No. You’re going to go apologize for blowing up at Race, explain why— which, yes, includes your feelings for him—, and either establish some boundaries for bringing guys home or pin him against a wall and have your wicked way with him.”

Albert flushed, and tried to smack Elmer— _the hitting thing is really getting out of hand_ , he noted—, but the younger boy darted away.

“I’m serious Al! I love you death but this will-we-won’t-we thing has gone on too long—like seven years too long. You need to pull your head out of your ass and inject yourself with some Katherine Pulitzer-brand courage and talk to Race. Because at this point you’re just hurting yourself, and now you’re hurting Race too.” His gaze softened. “Albert, please, listen to me this time. If you don’t tell Race how you feel, and honestly, too, you will destroy the best friendship you’ve ever had.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, Albert nodded, swallowing. “You’re right.” He inhaled, and stood up. “You’re absolutely right.”

Elmer laughed. “Of course I am. Now go get your boy!” He stood up too, and hugged Albert, squeezing him tightly. “You can do this. It’s gonna work out.”

“Thanks Elmer. I’ll text you how it goes.”

“Yeah, you better. I’ve been waiting seven goddamn years for this.”

  
Usually, their apartment had some sort of noise filling the space. Whether it was from the shitty Bluetooth speaker in the corner of their living room blasting whatever Pandora station Race was currently addicted to or screaming housewives from their mediocre television, there was always something in the background, there was always something. Sometimes it was even just the hustle and bustle of their mix-and-match group of friends, brought together like a patchwork quilt sewn by a blind woman: uneven but tightly woven stitches and years worth of love and labor.

Tonight though, the apartment was near silent and all too big.

And it was all Race’s fault.

 _No_ , he persistently reminded himself, _this is Albert’s fault too_.

Regardless of where the blame laid, however, Race was sat on the couch, waiting for Albert to come home. If he came home that is. Race knows that if it were him, he’d probably end up crashing at Spot’s for the night.

The muffled hum of life from the other apartments, as well as the noise from the street outside, was all Race could currently hear, save the beating of his own pounding heart.

His head snapped up as the front door opened slowly, as if the person behind it was trying to sneak in.

The air rushed out of Race’s lungs, and he found himself unable to stand up.

“I think we need to talk.”

Race’s eyes were wide, and he looked so small from where he sat on the couch. He nodded, shifting over to make space for Albert to sit without having to be too close.

Albert slowly crossed the living room, sinking into the cushions as he thought over what to say. Race beat him to it.

“You had no right to be so angry. What I do in my own private time is my business. And while I admit I should’ve been more considerate in terms of boundaries, you shouldn’t slut shame me for it.”

Albert sputtered. “I would never slut shame you!”

“Then why were you so mad?” Race felt anger build in him once again, though underneath it was a thick layer of shame.

Jaw clenched, Albert’s eyes darted away, which only fueled Race’s temper.

“I asked you a question! You could at least give me an answer.”

“I don’t like seeing you with other guys. Guys that aren’t,” a beat, “me.”

Race froze. Deer-caught-in-headlights was the best description for how he looked, a description Albert might have used if he had looked away from his hands.

“I’ve essentially been in love with you for seven years. It’s not a good excuse, and you’re absolutely right, I had no reason to be so angry at you, but it’s the truth.” Albert sighed, finally glancing up. “You asked for an answer. I’m sorry for hurting you, but I won’t apologize for how I feel.”

Race was still silent, shocked.

Albert bit his bottom lip. “C’mon Race. Say something, please.”

“Eight years.”

Brows furrowed, Albert cocked his head. “Huh?”

“I’ve been in love with you for eight years. I’ve got you beat.”

They both stared at each other, minds racing.

“You’ve been in love with me since sophomore year?”

“You’ve been in love with me since junior year!”

Suddenly, they were both laughing.

“We’re such idiots!”

“Jack is gonna give me so shit.”

“Elmer is gonna give me so much shit!”

“Kiss me?”

Albert choked on his spit, gaping at the gorgeous boy only a foot away from him. He nodded vigorously, grabbing Race’s waist and yanking the boy towards him.

They met with a gasp, Race’s hands flying up to tangle in Albert’s hair— that damned, red hair—, and Albert moaned softly.

Race swung his legs over so he was straddling Albert, pressing himself closer as he poured eight years worth of emotional repression into the kiss. He gently ground down, semi hard and rapidly approaching downright needy.

“Albert, _please,_ ” he whined, and how could Albert say no to that?

With a bit of maneuvering, Albert managed to stand up, Race’s legs wrapped around his waist and arms around his neck, and quickly marched them into Albert’s bedroom. He tossed Race onto the mattress and climbed up, hovering over his body as he stared down hungrily.

“And to think I could’ve done this seven years ago,” he murmured, ducking his head down to kiss Race’s neck. Race whimpered as Albert slowly trailed down, running his hands up the expanse of Race’s torso, hiking up his shirt as Albert kissed the exposed skin. Albert slotted a leg in between Race’s thighs, grinding down, gently at first, but with increasing intensity.

Race breathed shakily, yanking Albert’s shirt off and scratching down his back.

“Pants. Get your pants off,” he huffed, pushing Albert away to pull off his own, underwear and all.

Albert quickly followed his example, kissing Race’s hipbones before resuming their previous position, Race’s shirt still bunched up under his arms.

“God, you’re fucking gorgeous,” Albert groaned, kissing Race hard as one hand intertwined with Race’s up above both of their heads. The other reached down to jerk them both off, desperate for release.

“ _Albert_ ,” Race moaned, shuddering as he came. Albert followed quickly afterwards, Race’s name muffled into a spot under his chin.

 

“Holy fuck.”

“Holy fuck is right.”

Race grinned cheekily at Albert, blissed out and content. He gently pushed back the red hair that had fallen into his eyes, pecking Albert’s nose playfully.

“I still can’t believe you’ve been in love with me since we were sophomores,” Albert teases, delighted by the flush that graced the bridge of Race’s nose.

“You wore that suit to homecoming and slow danced with me to Bruno Mars. It was a joke to you, but it meant a lot to me.”

His throat suddenly went dry as Albert remembered that dance. He’d thought back on it before, but had never considered what it might’ve meant to Race.

“Obviously I had no clue I was in love then,” Race continued. “I figured it was just some dumb hormone-induced crush like the ones that came every time anyone showed any sort of non-platonic affection back then. But when it didn’t go away, just got worse, I kind of had to accept that… that there wasn’t any getting over you.” Race swallowed. “I figured I had no chance with you since you never really showed any interest. So that’s why I kept taking home so many guys. If they reminded me even a bit of you, I could try and convince myself it was as good as the real thing.” He paused, and his expression became cheeky. “I can safely say that none of them compared.”

Albert laughed, and kissed Race once again, a simple press of lips, and their foreheads remained together, staring at one each other as their breathing continued to slow to normal.

“So Elmer was right. You were taking home redheads.”

“And Jack was right. You wouldn’t hate me.”

Something stirred deep in Albert’s chest, and his gaze grew serious. “I would never hate you. I love you, Anthony Higgins.”

Eyes welling up with tears, Race smiled. “I love you too, Albert.”

 -

Jack walked up behind David, gently wrapping his arms around the taller man’s waist.

“Morning baby,” he murmured sleepily into David’s shoulder, inhaling the scent of coffee and David’s shampoo.

“Good morning Jack. Sleep well?”

Nodding his head, Jack lazily pulled David around so he could kiss him, smiling softly as their lips pressed together.

David suddenly pulled away (much to Jack’s dismay), remembering something. “Your phone has been buzzing all morning. I think it’s from Race.”

Jack lit up, suddenly much more awake. He darted for his phone, scrolling through the messages Race has been sending him. His excitement grew, and he shouted gleefully.

“Those fuckers finally did it! Race and Albert finally boned!”

  


**Author's Note:**

> I’m super open to constructive criticism. I may or may not write more in the future. Idk. This is essentially what you’d call a “spur of the moment” thing.
> 
> EDIT 11/13: Fixed some formatting stuff because for some reason the paragraph and section breaks got all weird when I transferred this from my docs.


End file.
